Alice makes a face.

     You said we would go to the zoo, she complains.

     And we will, I say. But first I have to meet a friend of mine at the pub. It won’t take long.

     But Mum says I’m too young to go the pub.

     Listen, I say, trying to sound rational and calm. It will only take a few minutes and then we’ll be off to the zoo. Okay? We won’t be staying for a drink, so your mam doesn’t need to know that we went there at all.

     She says nothing, so I take that as agreement. I don’t want to be dragging my little girl down the pub on a Saturday – the one Saturday in the month that we get to spend together – but I have no choice. Norton owes me money, a lot of money, and I need it urgently.

     Last night I went to the pub because I heard he was around and another friend of mine, Jack, said Norton would be in later. But I spent the whole night there and he didn’t show up. I managed to get a number for him during the evening and called him, but of course it went straight to message. On top of that I’ve been seeing the barmaid there, Shauna, and towards the end of the night she was getting flirty, but I wasn’t in the mood – I knew Alice would be coming early this morning – so now she’s pissed at me too.

     The good news is Norton texted me this morning to say he’d see me in The Bull and Drum at lunchtime. So, I have no choice. No zoo until I see Norton and get my money, even if it means Alice will be mad at me for a while.

     Carly, her mother, drops her off early. I’m standing at the door, feeling the cold in just a t-shirt and jeans. She climbs out of her SUV, pushes her sunglasses back onto her head and carries Alice’s overnight bag to the door for her. I’m not up long but had tried to straighten my appearance, and even spent a good five minutes brushing my teeth in an effort to disguise the smell of beer that I knew must accompany the stale taste in my mouth.

     You don’t look great, she says.

     I’m fine.

     Rough night, was it? There’s no warmth in her comment. She looks right into my eyes. The eyes always let me down, bloodshot the morning after, sunken the night before.

     I bend to hug my daughter but make the mistake of looking up at Carly in mid-hug.

     She mouths the words: No drinking! And then she gives me daggers looks.

     I’ll pick you up tomorrow sweetie, okay? She kisses the child and lets her sunglasses fall across her eyes once more before getting in her car and driving off. She used to like a drink at one time too, still does for all I know, only now it’s probably wine, legitimised by middle class respectability.

     We go inside, and I take out the frying pan to make some breakfast. Alice says she doesn’t want sausages.

     Why not? They’re good for you, I say.

     No, they’re not. It’s cruel to eat animals.

     Well, this is news to me. So, you’re a vegetarian now, is that it?

     I’m trying to be, she says.

     But you’re only nine years old, Alice. You can’t survive without meat at your age. You need the protein, the fats even.

     Animal fats are bad. Plenty of people are vegetarian, she says, and she opens her bag, takes out her phone and begins to play with it.

     I decide it’s pointless to argue any further, so I give her a bowl of cereal. I feel bad about my fry now, but I really need it after the late night, so I throw two sausages and two rashers on the pan and scramble some eggs. I’m relieved that Alice makes no comment, immersed as she is in her phone.

     The day brightens outside, so on the way to the pub we stop by a local park and I sit on a bench and roll a cigarette while Alice climbs to the summit of an enormous rope climbing frame in the playground. I feel proud. She knows no fear. She turns and waves to me from the topmost level and I have a sudden dread that she will fall. I think of Carly’s accusing face as we stand over Alice’s crumpled body, but already she’s back down beside me and I’m bothered that I’m more worried about Carly’s imagined disapproval than I am about my daughter’s actual safety.

     She doesn’t want to leave the playground just yet, but the pub will be open now and I don’t want to miss Norton. I want to get in, get my money and get out as quickly as possible. As we walk, Alice talks about the animals we’ll see in the zoo. She talks about the trip she took to Copenhagen with her mum and stepdad last summer and the day they spent at the zoo there; how they watched the polar bear swimming from below from a glass tunnel underneath his pen. It was cool, she says. Sophie, a friend from school, holidayed in Tanzania last year, she tells me, and saw all kinds of animals in the wild from the back of a jeep bumping across the Serengeti: lions, wildebeest, elephants, zebra and God knows what else. By the time we reach the pub the zoo seems third-rate by comparison.

     Inside the pub it’s cold and quiet. One or two solitary drinkers with newspapers open on their tables or studying their phones. No one behind the bar. Then Shauna appears, frowning when she sees me, and my heart sinks in my chest, but when she catches sight of Alice she’s suddenly transformed.

     Oh, you must be Alice, she says, coming around from behind the bar to say hello. Your dad has told me so much about you.

     Alice says nothing. She is tense, rigid like a plank of wood. I can tell she senses there’s something wrong here, but she can’t quite identify what it is. Her mother’s influence over her is so strong even when she’s not around.

     This is Shauna, Alice, I say. Shauna is a good friend of mine.

     Shauna looks at me and smiles. I never thought to get a smile like that from her today of all days. Maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

     Take a seat and I’ll bring you something nice, Shauna says, so we sit at the bar together. Alice looks at me. I know she’s worried that she shouldn’t be here. I smile at her and nod towards the telly in the corner which has the volume turned down.

     Look, I say, the racing is on. You like horses, don’t you, Alice?

     She nods dubiously.

     Shauna puts a glass of Coke and a packet of crisps in front of Alice and despite herself she smiles.

     Thank you, she whispers.

     She’s such a pretty, polite girl, Col. Shauna looks from Alice to me again and places a pint of lager in front of me. On the house, she says.

     Shauna moves away to serve another customer and Alice looks at me. I’ve seen that look before. I try to smile, but it turns out more like a grimace. I wait a minute or two, until Alice is gazing at the TV screen again, before I take my first sip.

     More and more people begin to arrive and the noise level rises. Someone turns up the volume on the TV and I realise it’s Grand National day.

     We should place a bet, I say to Alice. I borrow a paper from the guy beside us and put a pen in Alice’s right hand. This is what we used to do when we were kids, I tell her. My dad would place the paper with the list of runners and riders on the table and we’d close our eyes and pick a winner. She looks at me uncertainly, but I can see she wants to try it. Come on, I say, close your eyes. I lift the hand that holds the pen and tell her to bring it down when I say. Now! She stabs the paper with her pen. You can open your eyes now, I say.

     Who did I pick? she asks.

     Let me see – Cause of Causes, I say. I scan the form guide and the odds. He stands a chance, you never know. Anything can happen on Grand National day, I say. She smiles weakly at me.

     Shauna appears beside me, collecting glasses.

     Oh, by the way, she says, Norton was in earlier looking for you.

     What? Shit! I look at Alice, but she’s looking at the TV, the horses parading in the ring. What did he say?

     He just asked if you were here. Said he’d be back in a while, that you were to hang on for him.

     Okay, okay. So, he’ll be back then? Yeah?

     That’s what he said. And she moves off again behind the bar to serve more drinks.

     I need a smoke, so I take Alice with me out the back of the pub. They call it the “Smoking Area” but it’s really nothing more than a cramped back yard littered with empty beer barrels, bottles, broken wooden pallets and junk, surrounded by a ten-foot high wall. At night all sorts goes on out here at night. It doesn’t seem right to have Alice with me, so I bring her back inside and sit her up at the bar and ask Shauna to keep an eye on her. She nods a smile at me. I can’t believe how nice she’s being to me; it’s like Alice is bringing out the caring side of her.

     The afternoon is passing by. The pub is busy. There’s a steady stream of punters moving between the pub and the bookies across the road and I join them once to place our bet for the Grand National. I explain to Alice that we won’t get to see the race because we’ll have gone to the zoo by then, but we can check the result at home later.

     I’m sitting with my back to the door so every time someone comes in I have to jerk my head slightly to see who it is and now my neck is sore.

     Alright, Col, didn’t expect to see you here today.

     It’s Jack. He looks dishevelled and I can see Alice shrinking from him.

     Ah, you know, still waiting for Norton to show up, I say.

     He hasn’t been in yet? he asks.

     Well, he was, but he’s coming back.

     Only Geoff was talking to him earlier and he said he was away off again today.

     I shook my head. No, no. Shauna said he was in first thing, but he’s coming back.

     Oh, right, yeah. Is this your little girl?

     Yeah, this is my Alice, I say. Say hello to Jack, Alice.

     Jack does his best to smile at her, but Alice looks away.

     She has the look of her mother, right enough, he says, and moves away off into the pub.

     Alice is looking at me again.

     What? I say. What’s wrong?

     Nothing.

     Listen, we won’t be here much longer now, I say.

     We look at the horses running on the screen for a while.

     Why do they all call you Col? she asks.

     It’s my name, honey. I smile as best I can.

     No, it’s not. Your name is Cathal.

     Well, some people have trouble saying Cathal, that’s all. It’s much the same anyway, I say.

     No, it’s not, she says.

     Shauna arrives with another coke and crisps for Alice and a pint for me. She stands before us for a moment and I realise that these are not on the house. I take the last twenty from my wallet and pass it over. She doesn’t smile at me this time.

     I go outside for another smoke and dial Norton’s number again. He sounds spaced on his message and I wonder can I really trust him to pay me back. His sister wasn’t well, and he needed to go see her in Australia for a few weeks. That was why he needed the money. I had no reason to doubt him; I still don’t. But ever since he got back, he’s been avoiding me. We used to play five a side on Thursday nights, but he doesn’t come anymore. And when I mention his name to friends, they get vague about seeing him or knowing where he is. My hours at the factory have been cut again and now I don’t get any overtime at all. By the time I pay my rent and bills and maintenance for Alice, I haven’t got a whole lot left. Norton knows that too.

     Back at the bar some of the other lads I know drift in to watch the racing. They all make a fuss of Alice and buy us more drinks and crisps. It’s getting late, but I can’t just leave without my money. I can hardly afford to pay the zoo admission fee as it stands. Every time I mention Norton someone changes the subject straight away.

      I don’t think it’s right, Alice says.

     What’s not right?

     The way they make them run and jump, she says. So many of them fall. It seems cruel.

     Not at all, I say. Horses love to jump and race. It’s what they’re born to do.

     She looks unconvinced, turns her back on the TV.

     More people come in and I examine every face hoping to find Norton, but no joy. After a while I realise that Alice isn’t on her stool and I scan the room, concerned but at the same time sure she’s not gone far. The place is so busy now, it’s impossible to see everywhere. I take a deep breath and nod at Billy who is saying something to me. I don’t want to make a fuss. I know that she’s okay. But another minute passes and still I can’t see her anywhere. I think of the afternoon traffic on the High Street outside and my breath catches in my throat. I run outside but there’s nothing unusual there. The sun is beginning its descent; the day is almost over. I think of the zoo and I promise myself that I will definitely take her next time, no matter what.

     Back inside I move through the crowded room with difficulty. It seems I’m the most popular person in the place; everyone wants to stop me and start a conversation. I see Shauna collecting glasses and I touch her shoulder.

     Is she with you? I ask.

     Is who with me?

     Alice, I say. Who else?

     No. No, she says, distracted by punters trying to order more drinks. You really shouldn’t have brought her here, Col. It’s not a place for a young girl.

     I push through the crowd and on out to the back yard. Men stand around in groups smoking and laughing or arguing. Jesus, where can she be? Then I hear a dog barking in a neighbouring yard and I look up in time to see Alice climb from a shaky stack of pallets onto the back wall of the yard.

     Alice! Alice! I shout, and she turns to me and smiles.

     Look Daddy! Look! This is fun!

     Alice!

     I push through the men in the yard to get to her, but as I do her foot slips. She lets out a sharp shriek and falls on the far side of the wall.

     Alice!

     I push through the loafing crowds and start to climb the stack of pallets just as she did, but they come loose under my weight and I fall backwards, the pallets falling all around me. The crowd let out a derisory cheer. I get back up and call her name again.

     Alice!

     I think I can hear her crying beyond the wall, but I can’t be sure because of all the noise from the yard.

     Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I shout. The crowd fall silent, just one or two dissenting voices.

     What’s your problem, pal?

     I look around stupidly for something I can use to climb the wall.

     I said, what’s your problem?

     I look at the man who has approached me, and I realise he’s not threatening me, but offering help.

     My daughter, I say, she climbed the wall and fell into the yard next door.

     He says nothing, but with the help of one or two others he begins to re-stack the pallets and then he helps me up on to it while they hold the structure steady. From there I can barely reach the top of the wall and I pull myself up with all my strength until I’m sitting on the top.

     A drunken cheer goes up from the yard below.

     The dog is barking again, a stocky muscular breed, straining on a chain tied to an iron ring sunk into a block shed in the middle of the yard. There’s no one else about.

     Alice! I call, but no one answers.

     I let myself down slowly into the yard, scraping my knees and elbows off the wall. The barking turns to snarling as I dust myself off. Saliva drops in great gobs from the bared teeth of the tethered animal.

     Alice! Where are you? Are you alright?

     You know you’re trespassing, a voice says. A man appears as if by magic beside the dog. He’s overweight and sweating, wearing dirty blue overalls. He could be a mechanic.

     I’m looking for my daughter, I say. She fell from the wall. I point uselessly to the top of the wall.

     You shouldn’t be here, the man says. I’d be within my rights to let my dog off the lead you know. But I won’t do that if you leave straight away. He points to a door in a galvanised gate at the other end of the yard.

     I shake my head.

     Listen, I say. My little girl just fell off the wall there, she fell into this yard. You must have seen her. I heard the dog bark. I could hear her crying.

     There’s no girl here, he says. Do you see a girl?

     But she must be here!

     I don’t know what your game is, but I’m asking you to leave right now. He reaches over and unhooks the dog’s chain from the tether. The animal, sensing an opportunity, lunges forward with such force he almost knocks the big man over. The snarls have become whimpers now, high pitched, much like crying.

     Can I look around your yard, please? Just in case she’s hiding, she might be frightened of the dog.

     I can call the police if you like, the man says. I can have you arrested.

     Just let me look, I plead.

     He feints letting the dog go and it jumps forward once again, snarling. I recoil.

     Go on now! I won’t ask you again. He nods in the direction of the gate.

     I begin to walk slowly, scanning all around the yard as I go. Another figure peers out from behind the shed. All I can see is a man’s face, pale with rimless spectacles, thinning grey hair. I stop.

     Who was that man? I ask.

     What man?

     I saw someone, just there behind the shed! I point.

     It doesn’t matter, he says. It’s no concern of yours.

     The man steps out from behind the shed then.

     I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just heard some voices, that’s all.

     He is smartly dressed in dark grey trousers with a crease and polished black shoes. The sleeves of his spotless white shirt are rolled beyond the elbows revealing skinny, hairless forearms.

     My daughter, is all I can manage to say.

     He smiles at me.

     I can’t help you, friend, he says. He shows me the palms of his hands. They are pink, as if he’s just taken them out of a basin of scalding water.

     You have to help me, I say.

     He shakes his head. He isn’t smiling anymore.

     You should take more care of your children in future. Pubs aren’t places for kids, you should know that.

     The big man shoves me roughly. Go on, move! he says.

     Alice! It’s alright, it’s Dad! Just come on out to me!

     I take tiny steps towards the gate. I can hear the dog’s hoarse breathing and the rattle of its chain behind me as I go.

     I turn just as I get to the rusted door. The skinny man has disappeared.

     Listen, please. I’m begging you. My daughter is here somewhere. She could be in that shed. I can’t leave without her.

     The man walks past me, the dog straining to get at me as he goes. He yanks open the iron door, it’s bottom screeching along the concrete yard.

     She could be anywhere, mate, he says. There’s three or four other yards that back onto that pub. She’s not here, so push off. He shoves me out the door and slams it behind me. I can hear him snapping the padlock as the dog starts to bark hysterically again, and all the time his voice gruff and threatening. I don’t know what to do. I feel sick. I bend over and retch and all the beer I’ve drank comes pouring out. I close my eyes and I can see Alice’s face.

     I wander back into the pub in a daze. The place is heaving now; the big race is almost over. On the screen I can see two horses racing towards the finish. I look for Shauna but she’s not behind the bar. The winning horse crosses the line followed by Cause of Causes. There’s a half-hearted cheer soon drowned by a chorus of boos and groans.

     I reach into my pocket and uselessly stroke the folded edge of the betting slip. I take out my phone and start to dial Carly’s number. I have no idea what I will say, what I will do.